


To Love is To Vindicate

by Webtrinsic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Blind Kanan Jarrus, Captivity, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fear, Guilt, Hera Syndulla Needs A Hug, Kanan Jarrus Has PTSD, Kanan Jarrus Needs a Hug, Kidnapping, Meditation, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Misplaced Guilt, No Sex, Nothing actually graphic just alluded to, Parental Hera Syndulla, Parental Kanan Jarrus, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Hera Syndulla, Protective Kanan Jarrus, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Reunions, Self-Doubt, Sexual Slavery, Sharing Clothes, Slave Trade, Slavery, Starvation, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: It'd been three long months of cramped confines with the looming threat of being auctioned off to the highest bidder before her Jedi finally finds her and brings her home.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	To Love is To Vindicate

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't nearly is graphic as it's tagged to be, legit it's all basically what's alluded to have happened to other characters, worst that happens is Hera recalls some invasive treatment and thats only just a line, not even a flashback
> 
> also sorry i love giving strong characters mental/physical breakdowns especially when they have someone to take care of them like kanan would hera, also i just love the thought of her thanking him for being so strong because their obviously both so hurt in this situation, but ugh
> 
> also to all the peeps out there, pls don't contact me out of the blue no hello or nothing and demand i write something, like bro its just rude, don't do that to any writer while ur at it. like jeesh- that being said i have a good bunch of fanfics that i just gotta edit and post so like i said, lovely content coming for y'all

The cages are stacked, made of cement, layered in threes. Hera was in the middle row, closer to the ground because the cubby below was for catchpoles and chains. She was waist height, her jailers faces foreign to her unless they were bent over.

Another twi’lek sat in the cage above, in the time she’d been here, that cage had been filled twice. The ones across from them had been switched far more than that, and not only due to sales but also death. A leak had dripped over their cages, making it damp, and the subsequent girls beneath sick.

Hera’s brow pinched from where she was curled at the very back of her cage, it physically paining her that she can’t offer any comfort to the teenage togruta across from her, wheezing as if her lungs were about to give out because she didn’t think the girl would make it through the night. 

* * *

The girl doesn’t make it an hour and Hera, dehydrated and stick thin, gives her regards to the girl with silent tears. The togruta is not the first she’s cried for, there’d been a young twi’lek, so young that Hera couldn’t help the tears as she’d shrieked when they’d taken her away. Then the same with another twi’lek who had her mother’s eyes, her weeping had been anything but silent. Not that anyone cared, each day was different, sometimes it was booming with wails, and other days Hera wondered if she were surrounded by the dead. 

She missed the ghost, she missed her crew. She’d been cramped in here long enough that she knew things must have changed, by now Sabine would have changed her hair, Chopper might have been painted again, and Ezra either was wearing his hair in a ponytail like Kanan did, or Sabine had finally managed to convince him to let her cut it once again.

A broken huff of a laugh escaped her at the thought, the first smile to grace her features in months. Not that she knew it’d been that long, there was no day or night here, just the flickering of candle light and dark shadows she could do nothing to escape from.

Hera missed her family, but most of all she missed her Jedi. Just the thought of him had her heart fluttering, that and her eyes as fatigue pulled her down, there was little to do but sleep these days, that and hope her dreams were pleasant.

* * *

A clatter of footsteps nearly makes her head smack the ceiling. It's her frightened recoil that saves her from a nasty bump, the amount of footsteps didn’t bode well. Not in this place, and for these three long months, as much as she’d tried to hold on, rescue was the farthest thing from her mind.

Some of the girls shriek, one so blood curdling that it sent a shiver down Hera’s spine. If she didn’t already have goosebumps from the cold and her tattered clothing, she was sure it would have ended the same way.

The grip she has on her knees tightens, and her chin is surely leaving a bruise on her kneecap, or potentially they were leaving a bruise on her chin. Either way, she held on tight as if her grip would save her when it surely wouldn’t.

“We’re saved!” A female voice wailed, and with little pride, Hera resigned herself for the humiliation that was sure to follow. She was a general, in clothes so tattered she was nearly naked, thin to the point a harsh wind would have tipped her over, vulnerable in ways she could have never imagined. 

It feels unbecoming, it is unbecoming, something she is sure they’ll tell her otherwise. What her family will tell her otherwise, and she prays they are not here, prays that those she loves will not see her like this and all the horrors that this place provided.

And Kanan, even if he can’t see her with his eyes any longer, he sees her always, and she knows she is his rock. He tells her this often enough, and may the force be with her, with him, she doesn't want him to see- _feel_ her this way lest it makes him falter.

But Hera knows that’s too grand a wish because if she was in danger, Kanan would be first to tear the door down. He would be first in trying to come to her aid because he was a jedi knight, _her jedi knight_ , and she couldn’t even begin to expect anything less.

There is no doubt in her mind that he isn’t not here, leading the charge, looking for her-trying desperately to bring her home. And if he wasn’t here she’d be genuinely surprised, and if he wasn’t at least on his way-well her whole life might as well be a lie.

The gates to their cages fling open, she knows it is the force. Knows who is here, opening the doors with fervor. The mere sound of the clattering of hinges is startling, but she can see some girls throw themselves out of their prisons the second it happens, the second that sound had signified their freedom.

The blue twi’lek who drops down in front of her doesn’t waste a moment, not even to turn around and look at her before she is running. Not every girl runs, she certainly doesn’t, minds void, and they sit deathly still. Curled and cornered in the far backs of their containers, either hesitant and physically or mentally unable to move.

Physically she can, had been doing stretches most of her containment as not to fall victim to muscle atrophy, but mentally Hera cannot bring herself to crawl forward, to search out her lover, or any safety for the matter because she’d been here for three long months, only having moved when a catch pole was around her neck pulling her away for a washing or invasive check-up.

Hera has never been any good at seeing the future if not in battle, she doesn’t know what waits beyond her confines, and she can’t bring herself to breach the gates of her prison even if Kanan is waiting for her on the other side. 

It is too much to ask herself after all her tears, after enduring this perverted hell where children were sold and everyone who died did it without daylight. It’s too much for her after all this time, she’s too broken to demand her freedom and it lathers her with guilt and a soul crushing amount of self-loathing. 

Guilt that she is a general who has been far since strayed from her post, a captain who hasn’t been able to command her crew, a mother who has not been there for her children, and a...companion who hasn’t been much of a companion at all.

Then there is the guilt that she associated with burden. How much stress has her absence put the rebellion under? How much had it affected her crew? Her family? How has it affected Kanan?

She does and doesn’t want to know, not when it could have destroyed him, not when it could still destroy her.

Although it does manage to pull at the part of her that wants to crawl towards the flickering lights, if only just to offer her praise and assurance, because in the end she knows Kanan would have done exactly what she would have wanted him to.

He would have been firm and strong, rally the troops, take care of the kids. And considering she can’t hear Ezra, Sabine’s, or even Zeb’s voices amongst the other saviors or even beyond the wails and desperate sobs; it’s clear he had done just that.

She wouldn’t have wanted them to see this, she would have forbade them from coming on a mission like this, and she’s grateful Kanan had as well.

Noise tunnels in her confines, making it sharper and louder, and even still she hasn’t heard her Jedi.

But his presence is evident, he’s here, still either opening cages, or searching her out. It’s a wonder he hasn’t come up to her yet, unless...unless her damage has made her that much harder to pinpoint. Unless she’s been gone so long he has forgotten-unless he is afraid. Or maybe, it hasn’t been long since his arrival at all, her internal clock was shoddy at best after all this time and her thoughts were quicker than the kessel run. 

A gross part of her could briefly entertain that he doesn’t really want her anymore, not after this, and it is not a thought she wants to meet head on. _Can’t._ It seems she’s incapable of anything now and it hurts so deeply and fiercely her dehydrated body forces more tears down her cheeks without any care.

Has she ever had any self preservation at all? If she had, would she have been captured? Would she have basically abandoned her family? Would she have been dead already after fighting for a way out? Would she be able to crawl towards safety?

She doesn’t know and the uncertainty eats at her in the same way her body eats at the mere rations they give her and any other reserves she has left. Heartily-even when it makes her sick.

Familiar footsteps approach, louder than the drums of war, and she can’t bring herself to fully even turn her head. The corner of her eyes catches his midsection and the saber now fully pieced together strapped on his hip before he crouches down, his shoulders wider than her cages opening.

Had he always been so big? Had she always felt so small?

“Hera?” His voice is soft, echoing back at her-he’s talking to her with relief yet bracing as if she were a wounded animal- though stunted as if he were wounded as well. There is no doubt he isn’t, there is no doubt she isn’t. 

She’s frozen with tears breaking her silence, falling from her face, down her legs, and onto her bare feet. The tips of her lekku are scraped to hell from where they drag and make contact with the floor and she’s terrified.

In the dark, his scar takes up so much of his face it’s almost hard to make out the way his brows are pulled down and together in concern. In pain. Maybe it’s what’s casting an even deeper shadow over his scar because she can only just make out the bridge of his nose and the upset downwards curl of his lips.

She’s missed him yet he’s here now and he’s been so strong and it’s all her fault. More tears splinter down her cheeks and she can’t reign in the pain and despondency she’s feeling even for his sake, it’s another tally of things to begrudge herself for now and later.

A strangled sound comes from her Jedi in response, his gulp is audible, the smacking of his lips a mere whisper as he tries to pull together something to say. 

“Oh Hera,” is what he lands on, sympathy and so much pain, maybe even an undercurrent of anger shining through. The emotions have her shoulders and head falling, curling inwards more towards her knees, and not even her peripheral can see the way he takes up the path to freedom she isn’t willing to take now.

“I’m here,” he offers at her recoil, afraid and terrified he’d done something to hurt her. He hasn’t been this lost since the loss of his master, since the loss of his sight, and it’s that thought that gives him some inkling of what to do. Exactly what she had done for him.

He hoped his presence offered the same blinding assurance hers often- _always_ -did for him. Taking a step back, Kanan swept through the force, taking in everything he possibly could, and the tremors and goosebumps on his captain's skin didn’t go unnoticed.

In an act of chivalry and comfort, also because he couldn’t quite hold her in the way he wanted to, he slid off the armor protecting his arm, and took off his sweater with it. It was cold here, even for him who still had his undershirt on. 

So, he can’t imagine what Hera’s feeling in tattered clothes that he has no wish to discover how they'd gotten that way, knowing as much as he wants to know what fates had befallen her here, this is not the time to sort through his feelings and keep himself strong in the face of the dark. 

That, and with her captors within reach-it’s too much of a temptation. Especially with her so close, still under the throes of this nightmare they’ve put her through. He’d been strong for so long but she still needs him, he won’t falter now-not with her able to bear witness. Not when she's depending on him.

Leaning forward, Kanan’s forced to shove one of his shoulders in the cramped space so he could get the sweater far enough in that she wouldn’t have to go out of her way to find it. He could have provided more distance, if only to get her in arms reach, but he couldn’t force her. She had to come to him and if that meant sitting here and waiting however long that took, he would.

Snapping his armor back into place, Kanan turned his back, settling on his knees. He could wait all night.

* * *

He’s lost so deeply in his meditation that the gentle brushing of cloth over skin only registers in his ears once Hera has gotten the sweater over her head. Kanan’s not foolish enough to turn around, to potentially throw this progress out the metaphorical window, and keeps his breathing level as if he hadn’t noticed her putting on his sweater at all.

His cheeks do pull in the slightest though, pleased his offering had been accepted. Happy something of his could provide comfort when he physically could not. There’s a swish in the air as her lekku are pulled through before falling back against the floor, the hiss pushing through her teeth at the action when the bruised and bloodied appendages made contact with the sullied confines has his jaw tightening.

Just the thought of being trapped in such a way has Kanan feeling claustrophobic, he doesn’t know how she’d done it for three months, and sadly he is forced to accept that this catacomb was his and her saving grace. He would have never found her if she’d been sold.

The grip he has on his knees tightens at the thought, and he pushes that anger and helpless feeling out into the force which it accepts laboredly. With the somber, broken impressions trapped within these walls; it’s clear why it’s so hard for the light side of force to thrive here. The despondency has left an imprint, one that it was struggling to wash away. It makes him want to pull Hera out of there and just run, take the ghost and get as far away from this damn planet and system as possible. 

It’s not the first time he's wanted to get up and leave everything, even the rebellion behind. Hera has the weirdest ability of making him want to fight for the cause as much as she makes him want to pick her up and leave it.

The air shifts again, and it is torture to stay still as he feels her scoot an inch closer and then another before she stops. Still so far out of reach, he waits, and wonders if he should fill the silence.

It seems the other rebellion members offering assistance were following his lead, none being as intimate as he was, pressed against these catacombs in wait of the few women and girls who did not want to leave their prisons.

A few rows back he can feel a small young signature coming out of hiding, being helped down by a kind being before being escorted to safety with weak footfalls. 

Suddenly he has to question, can Hera even walk? Is that why she’s not coming to him? No, she’d managed to get his shirt over her head and scoot closer, surely if she wanted out and simply couldn’t bring herself to physically, even if he knew it’d hurt her pride (like all of this probably had) she would have told him. If not verbally, he would have felt her ask for his assistance in the force. Either way, if she’ll allow it, he doesn’t exactly plan on letting her walk out of here anyway. They’d starved her, had too to keep her weak, a gurney or being carried was the safest option for everyone involved, even the ones who’d run. The medics told them this on the way in, if you can get them on a gurney or carry them out, do it.

Hera in particular would not be exiting this building without his arms holding her up. 

Another hour passed and she’d shifted a tad bit closer. Now that if he wedged his arm under again, he could probably grab her. He knew better not to. Another hour, his brain ticked at what would come next, if he should be speaking, if he should be doing what she had done for him when he lost his sight. Fill her in on everything she’s missed, but the way her emotions were roiled with displeasure and self-deprecation that normally was found in him, he thought better of it. Telling her what had transpired in her absence would only hurt her now and it was more than obvious she’d been through enough.

The drag of his sweater on the concrete pulls at his senses, each fiber being disturbed by the ground as she scooted closer, ending up with frayed edges that would need to be re-sewn.

Anticipation sat heavy in his gut, growing heavier with each inch she scooted closer, he was sure now she was right at the back of his head, but his legs were heavy. The force demanded he stay down, and although his chest was tight, his breaths were coming in easy. Easier than they had been since she’d been taken.

“Love?” her hand feebly runs through a few strands of his hair, and without thought he leant back into her hand and hummed in response. It had been ages since her nimble fingers caressed and ran over his scalp. Her fingers are skinnier now and it makes his chest pang.

“Can we go home?” The question is uncertain, the thought of home warped in her mind, she longs for the ghost, for her family, but she doesn’t want them to see her this way, it’s bad enough that Kanan has to watch over her this way.

“Yeah we can do that,” rising from the ground, Kanan turns fully towards her, only needing one arm to wrap around her waist and legs to sweep her up against his chest. Blissfully her head falls into the crook of his neck, the differences in warmth affecting them both, he fights his body's instinct to pull away from the cold while she pursues his warmth.

They pass a few pairs, and he’s sure the sight of them sends another girl forward into accepting the help offered. 

Hera’s quaking against his chest, heating up, and cupping his cheek. Her palm frail yet firm as her thumb bristles over his facial hair, to make up for the lack of attention on the other side chaste presses of her lips frame his jaw. He doesn’t feel like he deserves the attention or even the effort but he won’t discourage it. Whether that be because he’s allowing himself to be a little selfish or he can’t bear to make her stop doing something she wants to do even if it’s physically draining for her and riddles him with guilt.

Another barrage of kisses holds to his skin and he leans into the provided comfort, not knowing anymore who it’s for as they reach the ship they came here in. They’d be brought back to base once they freed the rest of the twi’leks, togruta, and any of the other enslaved girls that were brought here.

It’s a blessing and a curse, he wants to get them home but maybe this time alone is what they both needed. It was out of his power, and far out of hers. At least they could get her on an IV and hopefully a change of clothes. Not that he doesn’t enjoy her in his sweater, but he’s pretty sure she’d appreciate a pair of pants.

They’d given him a cabin for the time being, a medical droid already there and waiting, it’s a safe haven as he sets her on the bed, startling when she makes no move to let him go. Adjusting, Kanan sits with her on his lap, allowing the droid to inch forward before it begins setting the IV. The needle goes into her thigh when she doesn’t offer up her arm, content to keep her hand which had fallen from his face and onto his shoulder twined in his undershirts fabric.

His cheek is heavy on her forehead, relief weighing him down as he sits with the fact that Hera is here in his arms. Finally.

“The crew?” 

It comes out warbled with tears and Kanan feels himself breaking as he bunches the blankets around them. 

“They’re okay,” and they were, he’d been more than vigilant and attentive when not actively searching out Hera, and although he felt their worry, they weren’t in shambles and they were still hard at work.

“And you?” The words are still lathered with tears, but her firm no nonsense tone has returned from its depths, and his head is falling so far it's now buried against her shoulder.

“Fine,” it’s a lie. He’s been on autopilot for months and scared out of his mind, hiding it from the crew whilst working himself to the bone. His tether, his rock, had been absent, and he loves her so much, it’d left him listless and overwrought with self-loathing (more so than usual).

“Thank you for being strong for them,” her gratitude eats at his heart because yes, he’d been so very strong, and it had been so very hard without her at his side, “for being strong for me,” she adds as she leans further into his warmth. Pride and adoration flutter through her and towards him, the chaste kisses that were once aimed at his jaw were now marring his temple. Hera knows now as they are alone, sitting in wait, they can, more importantly since she already has, _he can fall apart._

“You don’t have to be right now,” it’s permission for him to sob although no tears can breach his unseeing eyes, and just like that his chest hitches with cries. 

“I love you,” is a litany pressed into the side of her throat, and she is terrified of the future, terrified of what is to become of her and _them_ after all this, but she knows she cannot wait any longer. He cannot wait any longer.

“I love you too,”

* * *

Kanan is strong again, even more so than before with her sleeping soundly in his arms with his sweater swamping her and a pair of scrub bottoms hugging her legs.

Fatigue had won out over her nervousness of seeing her family again, and when they board the ghost, the spectre's fear is quickly abated by an easiness emanating from Kanan they’d never seen or felt before.

Hera wakes if only for a second to give her crew a smile as Kanan carries her to her room, and her bed, which he clambers into as well. 

_She is home,_ is her main thought, and it had been ever since Kanan had picked her up.

**Author's Note:**

> Snap: allisonw1122  
> Tumblr/twitter: webtrinsic1122  
> Insta:Webtrinsic


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